


Third Time's the Charm

by DdraigCoch



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Community: contrelamontre, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-10
Updated: 2010-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-11 15:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DdraigCoch/pseuds/DdraigCoch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the contrelamontre 'New' challenge, and BETAed by my friend Elipsis.</p><p>DISCLAIMER: Anne Rice owns the characters, not me. Please don't sue me.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Third Time's the Charm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the contrelamontre 'New' challenge, and BETAed by my friend Elipsis.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Anne Rice owns the characters, not me. Please don't sue me.

  
Silence. He wondered briefly if his maker was even present; he'd had his doubts when he'd seen that there were no lights on in the shared flat. But the absence of the sound of rat or other rodents that had a tendency to get inside if they were away for any length of time told otherwise. He was here, somewhere, and he wanted Louis to come. Why else send the letter which was clasped so tightly in his right fist? Had he been mortal the ink would have run from his sweat, and the letter be unreadable by now. Not that it would have mattered. The dark vampire had been too concerned to even put his jacket on before putting his newest ability to the test and taking to the skies.  
He wound his way shadow silent through the mess of antiques even in the hall, and up the old staircase to the equally dark hallway above. A frown marred his otherwise perfectly smooth forehead. A soft, achingly familiar sigh came from the master bedroom. The brat prince was concerned it seemed; after two centuries it came as no surprise that he was able to recognise the sound. Yes he was here. But where were the others? Shouldn't David, Gabrielle and those two young fledgling vampires be with him? It made no sense, and made the well repressed panic jump in his gut, reminding him of things he'd rather forget.  
"Lestat?" He called, heading for his Maker's room. A hand far more pale than it had been last time he'd set foot in this house pushed lightly at the door, but it gave no response. "Lestat? Please open the door, mon ami."  
A muffled whine just about managed to reach him from the other side of the door, making the frown deeper, and the mar on this creatures' beauty worse. But that was of little concern as he pressed closer to the heavy wood to better hear the rasps that were coming from the other side.  
"Beautiful one? That is you, isn't it?"  
The question had been asked in the old French. The last time they had used that had been after his failed suicide attempt, and before that in the church… Louis fought hard not to simply will the door open, or to crash through it. A broken door would not help with whatever this problem might be. So he told Lestat in as calm a voice as he could manage that oui, it was him. The door opened slowly on an almost complete blackness that would have made it impossible for a mortal to see a gun pointed in their face. But Louis could see quite clearly the huddled form that returned to it's bed.  
"You came." It was a horse whisper, no doubt as painful for the blonde to say as it was to hear. The figure looked down, huddled up in it's thick blankets.  
"You doubted that I would? You sent for me." Came the hushed question. Kneeling next to Lestat, Louis dropped the letter and put out a hand to rest lightly against his cheek, hidden as it was in the blanket's shadows. He drew it back as swiftly as Lestat backed away on feeling harsh scarring under his fingers. In his nest of blankets, the Brat Prince huddled up on himself and watched Louis through one good eye, a forboding grey, and his chest heaving with little gasps. "What happened? Where are the others?"  
"Talamasca." Lestat answered, blinking slowly. "I didn't want for them to see me like this, Louis. Don't tell them. Gabrielle will think I'm weak and the others won't know how to look at me." A scarred hand reached out and clasped the younger vampire's lightly – it was all the pressure his burned skin could stand. "But you came. I asked for help, and you came. Even if you leave now…" There was the briefest of scarred smiles as he trailed off.  
Covering the slightly shakey hand with his other, Louis squeezed oh-so-lightly to reassure his maker.  
"I'm staying." He whispered, flicking long black hair over his shoulder to expose his long white throat and lethargic pulse. Lestat looked both horrified and excited by the silent offer as his fledgling took both of his hands and settled them, one on his shoulder, the other on his waist.  
"Louis, you haven't fed…"  
"You need my blood. Don't argue with me, because this time I will win; I promise you that."  
"Fine." Petulant for the sake of appearances, Lestat leaned forward into Louis' own waiting embrace; he kissed pale skin before sinking his fangs into the seldom-tasted flesh. They both moaned prettily when Louis copied his actions and began to drink from his maker.  
Louis would spend the better part of a decade trying to forget the sheer sensation of what had happened to Lestat, passed on to him through the blood as the curtain between maker and fledgling disappeared for a moment only. It was a moment that had seemed like an eternity in the pit.  
It was a genuinely long time before Lestat regretfully pulled away from him and pushed at Louis for him to do likewise. When he did he was met with kisses from regenerating lips which he returned without thinking and moaned softly at the taste of his own blood in his maker's mouth.  
"You came." The blonde sighed, his voice healing; pulled Louis down onto the bed and rested his head on his chest.  
"The novelty will wear off." He teased lightly, covering them both with the bed covers. Lestat laughed softly, holding his fledgling about the waist as scars slowly but surely smoothed themselves out and his sensitised skin sent shivers up his spine when his back was stroked. He didn't argue.  



End file.
